


Making a Scene

by Deriliarch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Drinking, F/M, I like writing from Tonks' and Sirius' POV because I can talk about how good looking Remus is oops, Relatively happy end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 06:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14302518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deriliarch/pseuds/Deriliarch
Summary: Tonks has revealed her feelings to Remus and been soundly rejected. Remus shows up at the bar that she's decided to drink away her sorrows at and she let's him know exactly what she thinks about /that/.





	Making a Scene

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of vomiting, suicidal ideation, and drinking (obviously)

“Why are you drunk?”

The bemused question came from over her head, which made her crabby; both because it made her realize that she was well past the fun part of being drunk and because she had to remove her face from the table. “The question is, why aren’t you?” She growled into the tabletop before deciding that she wasn’t going to get her point across with half her face mushed up.

She rolled her head to the side to glare up at Remus. Her cheek tickled.  _Stupid long hair, stupid…mouth…hair._ She clawed it away. He only studied her silently. He looked like steeped tea in the dim pub, all shadow smears and cream lines, face unreadable because whatever he was emoting was too subtle to decipher for the proportion of alcohol and not-caring in her system. “So?” She demanded grumpily.

“So what?”

“Why aren’t you drunk?”

“Why on earth would I want to get drunk?”

 _Why on earth, why on earth, why.._.

“Why wouldn’t you? It would only increase your chances of getting blown up by someone tonight.”

THAT face, she could read. _Harrassed? I’ll show HIM harrassed._

“Nymphadora, you’re not making sen–”

“Sense, like, the sense it would make to get drunk when there'sh a war on and people dying and–and sense like when you know that you like someone, and you could just act like normal war time…people and get married, or at least give it a go, when we all could be dead tomorrow, but instead you-y-you use the sense–”

She fumbled to a halt, still glaring. ‘ _Too old’–you mean too young. How does he always do that, make me feel too young._  “…Don’ call my–me–Nymph’dora. ‘M making perfec’ sense,  _you–”_ Tonks stood up and it took a few seconds for the rest of the room to stand up with her. So she took that time to relocate Remus as the walls revolved–-just a little–-and found he was closer than before, in the process of aborting a motion to grab her elbow. She would have wrenched away. The table was somewhere, though, behind her… _Don’t make a scene, Dora, don’t make a scene._

“Alright, class” she adopted his cadences, exasperated teacher stance. “What is the proper way to respond to a pr–pro–pro _fess_ ion of love?” Her teeth felt like slick pebbles, clicking off sounds in the front of her mouth. They tasted like beer. She felt vaguely sick. “Anyone?” Tonks gestured expansively, looking around the room and reeled. Okay, less vaguely, more sick.   _Nope, no moving, nope moving_.

 _So on a scale of one to scene, how are we doing?_  She felt like her tongue was a thick slab of meat. She watched his mouth. It was crimped like it was when he was holding something back, everything back, smiles and words and  _I don’t think it’s a smile. Does he have permanent crimp lines?_  She wondered if he remembered what he ate, when he was a wolf. Slabs of meat?  _Permanent crimp lines it is._ “Yes, Mr. Lupin? D’you have an answer?” Her voice was too loud, her tongue was too loud; too much beer, teeth, too much.  _Scene!_

There were white lines at his cheekbones, a shadow flicker at his jaw; jaw clench. Teeth…His amber eyes were narrow sparks in the candle glow. “Tonks, you have had too much.” Despite her mocking, he was still level, still slow and clear, crisp words. Apple crisp. Light and sweet would make her roiling stomach settle. His lips were pink. Her eyes burned. “I need to take you home; Molly and Arthur are at Grimmauld Place, they can look after you.”

“S’those are your only options? Be my babysitter or be  _dead_?” she felt her eyes hot, her gut hot, her lips hot, throat, tongue. She fumbled for the retreating tail of that mocking anger and pulled  _hard_. “No, ‘m sorry, Mr. Lupin, you are incorrect. Proper way is accept and recip-reeci–picate or gracioushly decline an’ go your separate ways. Not  _lie._ Not tell her how she feels. Not…not–-dammit!…not show it’s a fate worse’n deaf–death by throwing yourself on the sword of ev’ry suicide mission after.” There was a little voice chanting,  _making a scene, making a scene, stop making a scene,_  in the back of her head as she watched his eyes widen, lines darken. Mouth…hurten? 

“No.” he said softly, almost involuntarily, it looked like. He stepped forward. Some of his scars left soft valleys in his skin, others lacy silver-pink webs. Her skin was burning. He lifted his hands and hesitated. She stared at them dumbly, their pale ragged lines, soft rounds of fingertips, scarred knuckles. 

Remus let out a breath, a reluctant sigh and cool dry hands settled on her neck, thumbs like water drops at her jaw. His breath made the surprise discovery of the tear tracks on her face;  _sneaky drunk jerks._  She felt like she was falling and started, realizing she’d closed her eyes against his touch. She tried to find her glare again. She felt she just looked bewildered. Warm eyes searched hers and Tonks could see every spider-fine spray of wrinkles at their corners, trudging rugged paths through the shadows of his under eyes.  _Too old, too poor, too dangerous._ She knew she should want to kiss him, apple lips and pebble teeth with no beer and raw tongue but maybe she was a little afraid she’d throw up on him but also maybe she thought she just wanted to stare at his face forever, and tell him that every single scar, and every single line and bruise and nightmare that lived there was something he had never asked for and never deserved and would never, never, never make her not want him and maybe it was time to throw up now.

To his credit, he didn’t recoil or jump away or curse. Just sort of stiffened in surprise and then closed his eyes in a reluctant, accepting kind of way.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“Scourgify,” he muttered back, and when they were clean, she noticed she felt much better. Sort of. A little.

They looked at each other a moment, studying. “I’m not dumb.” She offered, a little petulant.

“No,” he agreed, “you’re not.”

Silence again as they looked at each other, one of his hands still on the side of her neck, palm warming. “You’re eyes are the color of beer,” she offered again.

“Oh,” he replied indulgently. His mouth might have permanent crimp lines but it was not permanently crimped; he smiled, held back a chuckle.  _Stop. Stop holding back. Stop._

He sighed again, mouth still quirked, and touched their foreheads together chastely, making her wonder if she didn’t have a little sort of Legilimency. He smelled like the outside and old leather and definitely not beer. “I’m going to take you to Grimmauld’s Place, now,” he explained patiently, slowly.

“Okay.”

“Can you Apparate?”

“…Um.”

“Can you walk?”

“…Um…yes.”

He slid an arm beneath hers. They walked quietly through the rainwashed streets that smelled much, much better than the pub. “Don’t you have that raid tonight?”

Remus didn’t look at her. “I think I’ll request the night off.” Then, he did look at her. “Someone needs to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit, right?”

She gaped at him, until that amber glitter caught her eye, and she choked indignantly, “You  _ass–!”_

He didn’t hold back; he laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> An anon sent in the prompt "why are you drunk?" "the question is, why aren't you?" Also I know Remus has green eyes but I wrote this before I remembered aaaand I don't want to change it so. Completely irrelevant AU where he has gold-ish eyes.


End file.
